


Put Asunder

by fengirl88



Series: Trouble With Harry [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Civil Partnership, Divorce, F/F, Love_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not a divorce if you were never married in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Asunder

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the "Divorce" square on my love_bingo card; this is in the same 'verse as Water, Dust, Juice and Any Just Cause, and is set between the last two. Thanks to blooms84 and kalypso_v for beta wisdom and encouragement.

It's not a divorce if you were never married in the first place. Not in the eyes of the law; and if you're a lawyer that's what counts, or should. Clara's lost count of the arguments she's had about this, with her gay marriage activist friends, with the PC brigade, with Harry... Eventually she just stopped arguing, about that or anything else.

She was out when the final papers came - the solicitors had sent them registered, which meant a trip to the sorting office. And she has been quite busy at work, she does have other things in her life apart from being Harry Watson's ex-civil-partner, thank you very much for asking. So it's been nearly a week since the card came through her letterbox, and now she's sitting in an unfamiliar café round the corner from the sorting office on a Saturday morning, staring blankly at a half-drunk flat white and the last of the dissolution paperwork.

Which is, of course, the moment her mobile buzzes and it's Harry. Wouldn't you know?

She remembers that Richard Thompson song from all those years ago, _just when I thought I could learn to forget her, right through the door come a tearstained letter_. It wouldn't be the first time Harry had had second thoughts, god knows, especially if she's been drinking again. Though her timing could hardly be worse. 

But that's not it at all.

“I'm getting married again!” Harry blurts out, not even waiting for Clara to say hello. As if she thinks she'll lose her nerve if she doesn't say it right away.

Clara bites back the impulse to say _What do you mean, again?_

“Congratulations,” she manages, hoping it doesn't sound sarcastic. “Um–”

The obvious next question would be _Who is it?_ , but she doesn't think she can ask that.

“When?” she asks instead. She's not even sure if she should be asking anything, but after all Harry's chosen to tell her –

“Next month,” Harry says. She sounds guilty and proud and defiant all rolled into one. “Sarah's got some leave due so –”

“Sarah?” Clara says, stunned. Sarah _Sawyer_?

“I _told_ you,” Harry says, the familiar edge back in her voice.

“Yes,” Clara says automatically, “yes you did.” She only just stops herself from apologising, for fuck's sake. How was she supposed to know that relationship had lasted past Sarah's obvious rebound from the thing with John? If ever there was an accident waiting to happen...

There's an awkward silence and then Harry says stiffly “I thought you'd rather hear it from me.”

Only you, Clara thinks. Only you could make an act of virtue out of doing this. And here we are again, with me in the wrong, the way it's always been, no matter what you do. 

The truth is, there's no good way to hear this news. But having to deal with Harry as well is... worse.

Maybe there's something you're supposed to say at this point; Clara doesn't have the faintest idea what it is... _Dear Cathy and Claire, My ex-civil-partner just rang me to say she's getting CP'd again. What is the correct form of words to use in this situation? Confused, N3_

 _Dear Confused..._ no, it's no good, she can't imagine it even as a joke. 

The thing she shouldn't say is, of course, the one that comes out of her mouth.

“Does John know?”

“Yes,” Harry says, and now she sounds straightforwardly defiant, as if she's daring Clara to criticise her. “He's fine about it, actually. I asked him to be our witness and he said yes.”

Clara has enough self-preservation not to say the first things that come to mind: _that's fucking sick, are you crazy, is **he** crazy?_

“Oh,” she says. “Well.”

 _I hope you have a good day_ is probably what she ought to say next, but it sticks in her throat.

“Good luck, H,” she manages. _Better luck next time_. She doesn't have to say it; she knows Harry will hear it anyway.

“Yes, well,” Harry says, and now she sounds choked, as if she's crying. “Bye then.”

“Bye,” Clara says, but Harry's already gone. She sits for a while longer, watching her coffee get cold. Then she tucks the final dissolution order into her handbag and goes home to put it in a safe place. Because she doesn't lose important papers, even the ones she'd like to tear up or burn.

**Author's Note:**

> Richard Thompson's song Tear Stained Letter is [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hEWFsXrXv4).


End file.
